


Not the Only Targeryan

by Leebersnowy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 13:42:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12234024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leebersnowy/pseuds/Leebersnowy
Summary: My take on how Dany and Jon fell in love on Dragonstone. Ongoing...





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dany had arrived in glory, but lately she hadn’t felt entirely like a queen. The moves she’d made lately had taken more of her nerve, more sleep from her nights, and more time from her dragons. She never considered her first military loss would actually hurt, like a sturdy punch to the stomach. And she was cold. Somewhere along the way, she’d grown used to the soft, warm winds of the East.

From where she stood watching her children play in low drafts over the bay, the Seven Kingdoms were so close she could smell them. How easy it would be to fly straight to Kingslanding, rouse my people, show them Drogon...and then visit the Queen face to face. Never had the thought been more persuasive, like a lover pulling insistently at her hips. But you’re not the queen of ashes... 

A sharp wind struck her then, and she shivered. The long night is begun.

Her mind wandered back to the meeting earlier today, with the other contender in the game, the so called King in the North. Perhaps she’d grown attached to the notion that her power would seduce or overthrow any and all men she met in Westeros. It usually did. But this Jon Snow rebel seemed recklessly undaunted by the threats all around him, and equally determined not to pledge for her. Even when she tried to seduce him with her words, and perhaps her eyes, albeit subtly. He was young, and usually the young ones fell hard for her within the first moments. Maybe all Northerners were as stubborn, she considered. Maybe I will go there last.

Tyrion always told her there was more to foreign strangers and Northern fools than people knew. But the king in the north was hardly more than a boy, and even he wouldn’t trust her. Her hand seemed to think he was an ally, but she wouldn’t be surprised if Jon Snow had found his way off this rock already. He and his onion knight. The envy of that freedom awoke a fury in her. That, and she could picture a table of northern men laughing at the yarn their “king” threw at the Madking’s daughter. The peals of laughter about Night Kings and Dragonglass, and herself a gullible child, a joke. And yet, Tyrion urged her, trusted the boy, and was willing to ask her to help him.

Perhaps the emphasis of what lie ahead drove her to look behind. At what ifs... Raegal swooped over her head, and screeched. He’d grown so much she wasn’t sure he’d ever stop. He could easily have his own rider. If Drogo was there... Her heart longed, and strained, as it had so many times before. Had he crossed the sea with her, Drogo would have demanded battle by now. Together, they would have rode-

“Amazing thing to see.”

She broke from her thoughts at the words, and knew by the accent who it was behind her, approaching.

“I named them for my brothers, Vyseris and Raegar. They’re both gone now.” She watched her precious ones race each other into the sky over the island, and then turned around to face the man properly. “You lost two brothers as well.”

He nodded and grew distant.

She could tell their deaths meant more to him than her brothers had to her, but there were other things to address. “People thought dragons were gone forever, but here they are,” she allowed. “Perhaps we should all be examining what we think we know.”

The rebel came closer, to take in the full view of the bay and without looking at her, he said, “You’ve been talking to Tyrion.

She sighed and leaned on the wall. That feels like an accusation. “He is my hand.”

Jon Snow scowled. “He enjoys talking.”

“We all enjoy what we’re good at,” Dany said impatiently.  
After a pause, he said, “I don’t.”

Danaerys couldn’t stop herself from reading his face, which was still turned diligently away from her. Killing. she decided at once, like the brother I never met. He doesn’t enjoy killing but he’s good at it. His face was grave, almost too much so for a man so young, and it was alluring at the same time, even with the scars. Or maybe because of them. He certainly looked like he had the gravitas of a King, but she could not be made a fool of. There was too much at stake. At the very least Jon Snow must be made to realize that she would win this war.

“You know I not going to let Cersei stay on the Iron throne.” she told him and at last he turned and faced her.

“I never expected that you would.”

“And I haven’t forgotten which Kingdoms belong to that throne.” she shot back at once.

He inclined his head in a rather challenging way. “I haven’t either.”

For a moment the only sounds were waves crashing and seagulls crying. After staring hard at him she turned away angrily, and heard him breath loudly in and out, as though exasperated. She’d never felt more like a young girl again. As though they were two children demanding a bigger portion of pie. But she somehow found herself tempted to trust him. So, despite the doubt she found herself saying, “I will allow you to mine the Dragonglass and to forge weapons from it.” His face was shocked. “Any mend or resources you need I will provide for you.”

“Thank you.” he said, and seemed to be taking her in anew. Shock changed to something softer, something she suddenly had trouble looking at. Hope, eagerness even, and something like admiration all flashed through his face briefly, but long enough for her to catch. Slowly, she turned to face the sea again.

“So you believe me then, about the Night King and the Army of the Dead.” he said so close she could feel his breath against her cheek.

Without having to look at his earnest face again she answered, “You’d better get to work, Jon Snow.”

He delayed only seconds longer and then strode away so fast that she turned and watched him go. Every man, every single man she’d come in contact with wanted her. They bowed and scraped, or they stared and craved. They wanted either her power or her body, and they usually had neither. They would pledge men, arms, gold, gifts...Why not him? All she ask was he pledge to her. She’d even given him the chance to do it, warmly offering the position of steward. Here he could have bowed without losing much, but he didn’t do it. Wouldn’t do it. And he so seldom looked at her, she was wondering if she’d lost her charm somewhere along the long way here. She turned back to the sea in frustration.

“Nothing is the way I thought it would be.” she complained to Missandei later, as she was preparing for dinner. Despite how skillfully the scribe was fixing her hair for the evening, Dany wore a forlorn expression. She’d dressed with more care than usual, choosing something that may have caused her to look more pretty than powerful. She’d even smoothed a balm of crushed red minerals on her lips but was still troubled by her tired reflection.

“Your Grace?” Missandei puzzled.

“I feel as though I have waited a hundred years, and suffered a hundred fold to gain my peoples trust, and now I come here, and find I have to do it all over again.”

“You’ve more than one kingdom, Your Grace.” the girl reminded her, “And an entire land that loves you, and owes you it’s future. They love you because you waited and suffered. Perhaps, trust is best gained with pain.”

Daenerys smiled, “Always something wise.” But it didn’t change her low spirit.

Missandei smiled back, slightly pink of cheek. After a moment she asked, “Does Your Grace expect the King in the North to come to the dining hall for evening meal?”

Dany sighed. “No. Not really.” He’d kept to his rooms the night he arrived, and with the friction of their first meeting she expected he would try to avoid her all her could.

“He is quite young to be a king,” her little scribe braided deftly, “This one thinks he is around Your Graces age.”

The queen nodded, thoughtfully. She had noticed that the very first time she saw him. Too bad all he can talk about is ghosts in the North.

“He is very handsome too, in this ones opinion.”

Dany frowned. “So what?” Missandei shrugged gently and began to wind the long plaints craftily up on Danys head. “You are playing matchmaker, I see. But maybe I am through with matches. Hizdar tried to have me killed, Daario will love a thousand before he dies, and Drogo- Well, losing him was the worst pain I’ve ever known. Why would I want to place myself in that position again? Open my heart to betrayal, or worse...”

“This one thinks it is not always a matter of want,” her scribe had moved to smoothing a flowery oil into the skin of Danys arms. “Sometimes one has no control over it. Ones heart opens anyway.”

Daenerys warmed to her little scribe again, thinking of course of her budding feelings for Greyworm “The best ones happen that way.”

She felt foolish in the stone halls, flanked by her khalasar. They wouldn’t leave her be, since the Northern King arrived, insisting on following her everywhere. Missandei kept eyeing them, when they grew too loud or brutish, but it wasn’t until she was in the presence of a man that they truly became overbearing. Like proper brothers, she felt. Each one had sworn himself to her uniquely, and each had a strength that made her protective circle complete, and utterly impenetrable. No one would be sneaking to her chambers like Daario had, anymore. Unless I want them to.

Tyrion fell in by her side, close to the dining hall and Dany quickly said, “I’ve followed your advice.”

“Words I will never tire of hearing.”

“I’ve told Jon Snow he may play with dragonglass all he wants. But do you think he will have a conversation about living armies eventually?”

Tyrion smiled, “We can only hope. He’s had his own victories in battle, he could be very helpful.”

The dining hall hosted a longer table than she’d had before. Supper smells were hearty and all around, and Ser Davos was present and of such good spirits, his laughter could be heard before she’d even entered. It was as merry a room as she could walk into, under the circumstances. And seated in a place of honor, though not looking comfortable with it, was Jon Snow himself.

As she was about to join the young man at the table she lowered her voice to say, “Helpful or not, if the man is mad-”

“We don’t know that, yet.”

Daenerys shot him a look and they sat at the center of the table, side by side. Missandei stood just behind her, as the little scribe preferred, and Varys sat at her left, with the King in the North a little further from there. At the first course served, a singer with several players sang them songs from Westeros, and Ser Davos had many entertaining stories at hand. Soon Dany felt more comfortable with the Northern guests and leaned over Varys to catch the Kings attention.

“Is this the farthest South you’ve come, my lord?”

“Aye,” his eyes smiled, “Your grace.”

“And what do you think of it, seeing new lands I mean.”

“Seeing new lands?” Jon Snow seemed rather set off by what she had said. “I suppose I thought it would be harder to breath, but so far it hasn’t.”

Dany did her best not to twitch her nose in annoyance. Was he purposefully being dull? She tried again, mostly because she could feel Tyrion prompting her, though she wasn’t looking at him. “I’ve heard rumors you’ve raised a direwolf. I could hardly believe them, but many insisted it was true. Even Tyrion said he rambles about following your every step.”

Jon Snow stared, as if begging her to arrive at the point.

“ And yet he is not with you.” she finished.

“No.” Jons answer was clipped.

She sat back at once, and eyed Tyrion hard. This man is as gracious as a stable hand. “I wasn’t sure he’d be safe,” he answered at last, “ if the rumors I’d heard about the dragon-queen were true.”

Daenerys turned back to him at once, and her eyes narrowed on his face. “Dragon-queen.”

His head shook once, “Not my words, theirs.”

“Have we not had our share of labels placed on us both?” she pushed him a little. Are you not a bastard?

“I’ve found labels to be helpful, when you’re deciding who to trust.”

Admitted a little bothered by his quiet but quick tongue Dany decidedly changed her approach. She raised her brows slightly, and allowed the smallest hint of a smile. “Do you fear me, Jon Snow?”

“With three full grown dragons at your call, Your Grace, I’d be foolish not to.”

“Many have told me I am little more than a child.”

Jon Snow now held her gaze steadily, “Then they were very wrong.”

“Do the Northern people even have cause to hate me?” she cried.

“It isn’t you they hate, it’s your last name.”

She huffed once, “You a very bold, to throw a name back in my face.”

“Targaryans are so bound to their duty, they can’t see anything else.” Jon Snow downed what was left in his cup.

Dany stared forward, angrily. “As the only Targaryan you’ve met I can decidedly disagree with that.”

“You aren’t the only Targaryan I’ve met.”

A moment stretched out, where the lilting strings of the players was the only sound. Everyone at the table had ceased their conversations and were watching the two of them closely. Daenerys wanted to look aloof, but in truth she was astounded. Her head turned quizzically, and all at once her anger with the northern king was shifted to the side. “Who? Please, tell me who you met?”

Jon Snow dipped his head and finally looked a little softer., “He was maester at the wall, Your Grace.”

“Aemon.” Tyrion said suddenly, his eyes wide.

Jon nodded.

“I’m a fool.” the dwarf said.

“I felt the same.” Jon smiled, and to her he explained, “He was Your Graces uncle, a sworn brother of the Nights Watch.”

“Was?” she was flooded with dismay.

“He died, I don’t even know how old he was. Older then the wall it felt like.” Jon was saying, but Dany felt like a sudden well spring of hope had just been shot through with an arrow. “He read everything there was about you, to anyone who would listen. He would say he wished he were young again, so that he could find you, and that a Targeryan alone in the world was a terrible thing.” She looked back at the Kings face . “When your family was massacred, Maester Aemon chose to stay at the wall. He put duty above his family, as we are all taught to, but I truly believe that he regretted it, every day.”

Dany felt her her discontent return. “I’ve no family left to put duty above, my lord.” she rose without warning. “Your father’s best friend saw to that.” Everyone was scrambling to their feet and she said, “Don’t rise, but do excuse me, I am tired.”

She left the room then, her pace so quickened Missandei had to run to keep up with her. No part of her wanted to see the king in the north again, with his deep eyes, and lofty opinions. She’d been fine so far, a queen in her one right, she didn’t need a pretender to coach her.

“Your Grace,” Tyrions voice slowed her slightly, “He may not be the softest of speakers.”

“Does he wish for me to imprison him?” she could hardly keep from shouting. “Or does intent to advise me, because I am just a queen.”

“Now now, he never said anything like that.”

Daenerys glowered.

“You don’t have to speak to each other. But keep working together.” Tyrion urged, “At least do that. Truly, you could use any ally you can get.”

Dany threw Tyrion a dry look, and walked the rest of the way in a steady but determined pace. The king in north will never have to speak to me again if he so chooses, she decided, and in turn, I will stay as far from him and his opinions as I can. But even with him sleeping somewhere far from her own chambers, Dragonstone was beginning to feel rather small.

 


	2. Not the Only Targeryan Chapter 2

The next day it rained into the evening, when the rain turned into a loud storm, which made Daenerys restless and irritable. She couldn’t ride her old silver out to see the dothraki , or even take a walk along the cliff and so was forced to run her thoughts, over and over again. Each passing day she yearned to take to the skies, and Tyrion talked her out of it every time. But it didn’t stop her from doubting, from wondering. BE a dragon, Lady Olenna had said, and now she was gone. A real dragon would have slaughtered it’s enemies by now.  
So quiet was Daenerys at dinner that it almost seemed the young King was more animated than her, even smiling on occasion. She acted the part, as she was meant, joining in the talk however lightly, and leaving graciously and early as a lady should. But in her chambers she was so angry she lashed out at her handmaids, and even dismissed Missandei with a careless voice. Her bad reactions only troubled her more and when it was time she should be asleep, she lay awake instead. Guilty thoughts trailed, and Dany tossed until, driven from her bed she wandered the dark halls alone, moonlight fighting with the clouds that darkened her way. A ghost in a castle, dressed only in her nightgown.  
The remains of lightning flashing across the water slowed her step, at a window off the great hall and there she stood for only a moment when the rustle of movement, very close at hand startled her.   
“Pardon, Your Grace.” the voice was low, “I meant not to scare you.” The voice was Jon Snows. “I didn’t think anyone in the castle would still be awake.”   
“I’m a light sleeper” Dany swallowed softly, “I see the sky has cleared.”  
“It has,” and answered, then took a step away, “I should-”  
“You may stay,” she told him, and then realized how very demanding that seemed. But he stayed, and she found herself saying, “I have been thinking of my uncle.”  
Jon took a step closer, “I should not have mentioned him, when in the next breath I had only bad news.”  
She eyed the boy, and his sudden kindness, and said, “I confess I’ve been wondering if he would have forsaken his vows once he met me. Or if he would have thought me impulsive. Or a foolish girl.”  
A flash of distant lightning played off of Jon Snows face, and it was revealed him to be watching her most intently. Danaerys felt a small punch of feeling inside, and so long had it been since she’d blushed under the gaze of a mans eyes, that now she felt a healthy dose of fear along with it. It took too long for the king to answer. All this time he’d been talking about the north, and the threat coming, or even of the things that had passed for Tyrion in the time they’d not been in contact. He never spoke about her wars, or her fears. It was like he didn’t care to know them, and she felt that he should know them, if he coming to her for help. Maybe, all this time, Jon Snow really did mean her harm. Maybe...  
She turned back to the window, squeezing her eyes closed.  
“Sometimes,” Daenerys spoke her thoughts out into the moonlight, “I am scared of what my mind might become. I see enemies everywhere, in every shadow, where they aren’t any. I have left a trail of them behind me and sometimes... I know they are coming for me...” She turned to him, astounded that she’d spoken such thoughts out loud. “Excuse me, I forget myself.”  
Dany made a move to leave but his words stopped her.  
“He would have.”She turned back to Jon. “Forsaken his vows,” he explained. “Maester Aemon. He would have.”  
“How do you know?” Dany wished she could keep the emotion from her voice. She heard Jon Snow swallow, and knew the moon was shining on her face, but it wasn’t until he cleared his throat that she realized she was gripping his arms, tightly. She let go.   
“I...I knew him.” was his only answer, “I’m sorry.”  
Dany waited for more, but he did not speak again.   
“I wish I would have known him.” the moon drew her eyes to it, “I wish I would have known my brother Rhaegar, and his son Aegon, the prince, who was born just before me. He might have been good...” Dany paused. There may have been more Targeryans by now. “But wishing does nothing. I remain the last of my dying family.” After a steadying breath she turned back to him, “Nothing you could have said or not said can change that I beg you do not feel burdened.”  
He might have wanted to say more, but she bid the king a good night and left him in the moonlit hall. In the flashing light she crept back to her chambers, and took to her bed. She was a foolish girl, wandering her halls, speaking crazy thoughts to potential allies. Aegon the conqueror would have had half of Westeros by now, with his own three dragons. But his sisters rode with him...she thought, Aegon was not all alone. You are alone. She feared most of all, of course, that it wasn’t Rhaegar or Aegon she was most like, she feared she really was the Mad Kings daughter. That some day she wouldn’t care what she did or who she killed.   
Once more, she lay in bed with no sleep, until her thoughts returned to the young King, and his infuriating sympathy. Even in the dark there had been a sort of presence about him, she tried to recall exactly what it was, but she slipped into a dream and finally her body was at rest.


End file.
